Between Scot and Scribe.
Here’s the conversation.
It started with me in her head, telling her how to light the fire she was making, ‘…you assuming I have nothing to say, or that I’m not a writer, per say’. Ye ken that’s not how I’d word that yes? Whatever. I was the one asking the questions, it was her job to remember.
‘Why, do you have something to say?’ Wherein I replied,
‘What Scotsman doesn’t?’
Or something more clever that she’s already forgotten. ‘For a scribe your typing skills are way bad. You might not wonder why I’ve written nothing since you’re too slow for me, and that’s the truth.’
Readers, make sure to roll your ‘r’s when ye read this, I’ve a thick Scotch burr, ye ken.
She then said ‘whatever’ or something witty like that. To which I replied, and I quote,
‘I’ll tell you where we’re going with this.’
If there’s something we Scots know a thing or two about, I tell you right now, we do. About everything, we’re a nosy bunch, ye ken. We discussed her complete inability to deal with my accent, not surprising, everything I say sounds sexy and I doubt she can manage that. I took the decision to remind you occasionally by using ‘ye ken.’ I liked the idea of replacing every you with ye, but I spared ye that.
The scribe then demanded that I actually have something to say, otherwise, others will come and kick me out, or something like that. Ha! I’m still laughing, everyone knows you can’t move a Scot to save your soul, better than ‘others’ have tried.
‘I say you’re highly unreliable, like your accent. How many years have you been around and just enough to offer unwanted advice or smart remarks, now you want me to type for you?’
Pretend ye never heard that, I am. Here’s where we’re going, I asked her, ‘who knows more about witches than a Scot?’ Then I mentioned a sweet bit of nasty named Agatha, now there’s a witch I could bite.
‘I don’t have time or room for you here. Don’t forget I know what a crazy bastard you are. Why don’t you go away for a while, come back when I’m doing something else and you can make sure I do it right, you know I won’t.’
‘Tempting.’
Readers, you’ll have to watch Regency Blackadder, to hear how I said that last word. God bless MacAdder, I can steal a word from him, he’s a cousin thrice removed.
I looked her in the metaphorical eye and said, ‘this Scotsman would like some access to the witch. The one with the orange hair and bad temper, how can we manage that, wee scribe?’
And that’s all it took, I tell you. She’s already running with it, I can see. I give her a few minutes, she’ll come to the crux and then we’ll hear something.
‘Very nice. Yes, you will find yourself in the sequel, after we settle a few things.’
Know, readers, that he has always denied being a Scotsman, claiming to be many things that I just can’t see, or test. He knows how to do everything, to hear him tell it, and is allegedly a funny guy, if he is a guy. You see what it’s like? What, will I write him in somewhere, in a kilt and fighting bravely, only to find him a woman? Or something else entirely? I shake my head in wonder. At the very least I need a gender and name to start with. Trust me, nothing is written in stone, others like to rewrite stories.
‘I don’t know why you want in now, you know there is enough going on for a scribe with one mind and one pair of apparently inadequate hands. If you know anything about Agatha, you’ll know she is making a mess in Hell, at this time.’
‘If you know anything about me, lass, you’ll know that a trouble making witch like her puts a rise in me kilt.’
‘Yes, thank you for that image.’
‘It’s my pleasure, as ye see.’
‘I will think about it, if you stop making me type things like ‘ye ken’, and ‘me kilt’.
‘Every man should be allowed to say, ‘me kilt’.’
‘Okay. That I agree with. But just the once.’
“Nara” (Theme to Cold Case) by E.S. Posthumus In case you think we only listen to bagpipes. The Scots nation is counting on this song to make you take me more seriously.